Whispers in the Dark
by KrissM3
Summary: I love my job- I really do, but sometimes it brings back painful memories. Especially some patients. I think what got me from the moment I saw her was her eyes. They echo emptiness, burn a telltale red, and stare in a glazed over expression I've seen once before...in a mirror.
1. Reflections

**Hey everybody, or what few of you are actually going to read this little story. This was a rabidly veracious plot bunny that popped into my head one night while I tried to go to sleep. The main point of writing this is to experiment with 1st person present tense. The other point is to delve into the idea of post war complications for people. I will try to keep cannon, but I might not always be able to.**

**Warnings: Some crude language, trigger possibility, depression, PTSD, implied self-harm, and whatever my dark mind will come up with. I do not condone cutting or any other self harm. It's a serious issue. This is also out of character, but just deal with it or you don't actually have to read it.**

**Disclaimer: No matter how much I wish I was that immortal god, Michael Buckley, I am not, and have no ownership of the Sisters Grimm. I am poor, and as far as I know, nobody's paying me to write this.**

* * *

Chapter 1: No Power Here

I drag my Styrofoam cup to my mouth and down its contents to the grainy dregs that settle to the bottom. I grimace as the acrid taste of stale office coffee fills my mouth. The flavor doesn't matter, though, my elixir of the gods has done it's job: fend off the withdrawal headaches I get without it, and fight back the drowsiness lurking in the edges of my murky mind.

I'm sitting in my overstuffed chair, in the session room of my practice. The automated heating system hasn't kicked in yet for the morning- if you can really call this void between midnight and sunrise morning- so I pull the edges of my coat closer and adjust the homemade scarf around my neck. Allison had learned how to knit from Granny the previous year, and this small- and slightly misshapen- offering was the result. I wear it to remind me of everything I have now; how that's worth everything I went through.

Gloria, my contact at social services, called me only thirty minutes ago, waking me up from a dream of a peaceful family vacation, to ask me to come in for an emergency session with a new girl who'd been processed that night. She'd said I would understand why it was so important when I got to my office. Gloria was right.

The girl huddles, knees pulled to chest, in the lounge kitty-corner to mine. An oversized sweatshirt envelopes her fragile body, while a fringe of bushy auburn hair escapes from the hem of the hood. Her mascara is smeared, thin tear tracks mapping out the sorrows of her life like the patterns of shattered glass. I can tell by the shuddering of her thin frame, she's on the verge of crying again. I can't tell if it's because of what happened to her mom last night or because of pain from the numerous jagged incisions hidden beneath her long sleeves.

In my opinion, this girl has received too much pain in her life. For the last three years her boyfriend has been-hurting her. Her father has been hurting her mother for as long as Emmy can remember. Tonight, Emmy's mother died. I can't wonder how Emmy was led hurting herslef.

I fight the urge to sneak a look at the clock. It's late. I have to struggle to keep my mind from wandering to my warm and comforting bed occupied by my likewise warm and comforting husband. On a normal day I'd by lying in the peaceful hammock in my backyard in a few hours, having gotten up early to journal before starting my busy day and getting my daughter's lunches packed.

These tempting thoughts hide with the sleepiness in the shadows of my brain.

I face the truth. I would rather be in my gorgeous and relatively normal home than trying to help this young girl. I don't want to find this kind of pain again- her pain. I know it sounds irresponsible, especially because it's my job- I'm a part-time consulting therapist for court cases in the social system- but this reaction is also the reason I chose my job. If I can't help these people, then others will just try to brush their problems off. So I push my distracting thoughts away with all my strength, because no matter how fucked up her life is, or maybe because of that, she needs somebody who's entirely there with her. Emmy deserves someone who truly cares. She's somebody's baby, and I'd want someone to truly try if my daughter was in her place.

Gloria knows me too well. This girl has stolen the heart from my chest and won't let go.

I think what got me from the moment I saw her was her eyes. They echo emptiness, burn a telltale red, and stare in a glazed over expression I've seen once before...in a mirror.

* * *

**Twenty years earlier**

After the war, life returns to normal- well, at least for some people. Dad still wants to leave. Mom wants to stay- to continue to help putting the community back together. As if she can do what all the king's horses and men failed for this Humpty-Dumpty town. I side with Dad. I think, maybe if I get away, I can move on mentally too, without these haunting ghosts. All I want is my normalcy back.

Daphne doesn't really get it. All she understands is the fact that I want to leave, and I don't want any reminder of our life here, that I just want to forget everything. She feels I'm betraying her.

And maybe I am. I've betrayed plenty of people already.

Daphne shouts at me. "Why can't you just be... I don't know... _good_? You're a Grimm, and _this_ is what we do! We help people- just accept it."

I don't think Daphne knows how much she affects me, because she storms out after delivering her last statement. The thing is, those words debilitate me.

It's only later that I realize she doesn't mean them. But now they seduce back the whispers that have been dancing through my head since the final battle.

They make me see the faces of my friends and family- survivors.

They look at me with hatred; they ask me how I can stand myself; they question why it was me that survived and not their loved ones. I'm plagued with images of the dead, their immobile faces screaming out. Voices of the living and dead fill my mind.

_We died for you. Why can't you be worth it?, _they ask me. I can't answer.

I stand, my back firmly pressed against the wall. A sob- all the sorrow of these years- lodges itself in my throat. I wish I could scream, but the voices drown me out.

_We trusted you! _But I let them down.

_The defective Grimm, _they sneer.

For a second, I resist. '_No! I'm not,' _I try to scream back. I can tell I'm only lying to myself. It's no use- we both know the truth.

_Worthless!_

I throw my head back, the pain forcing itself through my throat. My hands reach out and grasp at nothingness. The sobs shudder through my body. I slump to the floor and try to shield myself from their accusations.

The horrible fact is, when the attack is coming from inside yourself, you can't really get away. The voices are always there; they just get bolder in the darkness.

When I glimpse a face through the gloom, I hardly recognize it. It makes my stomach clench, and I'm about to be ill. '_It's only a reflection'_, I try to reassure myself. I stare to the soundtrack of the whispers. I can't look anymore, but the face won't go away. I am sickly entranced. It looks at me with resentment and blame and self-loathing.

I strike the face.

I don't really understand what I'm doing until the shooting pain of glass in skin registers.

Blood.

For a second, my sacrifice appeases the voices. That pain, it temporarily eases everything inside. At last, I have some semblance of controll in my life. The blood is the morphine to the agony slithering inside my head.

This isn't the first episode- or even the last.

It isn't until the day Puck finds me once nearly passed out, that anybody finds out. He says I'm not allowed to die on him; he loves me too much. I tell him I don't know why.

My family takes me to a therapist, and I don't like him at first. I hate him. He makes me face the voices, and I'd rather be the coward they call me.

* * *

**In the Present.**

When I see that expression again- this time in Emmy's eyes- I say the words Dr. Carlisle said to me the first time we met.

"Emmy, I know a lot has happened to you. I also know these lies you've been hearing- telling yourself- they're just that: lies. Were going to get through this together, and I promise I will help you through, because lies don't have any power here."

She looks up at me, barely a hint of hope in her eyes. I know I will protect this young girl, from the bastards that hurt her, her father who didn't help, and most importantly, from herself.

And that is the best I can do.

* * *

**Wow, that was quite an interesting experience. I'm curious at what you all think. Bad-good-Ugly?**


	2. AN

Hello to all of my dear readers.

I want to know if anyone would like me to continue this story. I have a few ideas, but I'm so busy that I wouldn't want to waste my time if nobody would actually read and review a continuation. So, I'd love to know what you all think. Do you like the story and think I should add more, or just let it be as it is?

If I don't get much response, then I'll just delete this A.N. and let the story stay. If you want more, then please tell me so. I love you all and value your input.

I look forward to hearing from you. Also if you have anymore ideas on content you'd like to see in future possible chapters, I would enjoy getting that to.

**Ideas I have that I might add:**

Background on Sabrina's depression.

Puck and Sabrina bonding after he finds out.

Veronica and Sabrina bonding and dealing

Henry and Sabrina bonding.

Daphne dealing with guilt.

Sabrina's life in the future.

The treatment of Emmy.

Sincerely Kriss


	3. Shattering

Hi my dearests! I'm back for the second. chapter. I'm still not entirely sure how far this will be going, or even exactly where, but I guess were all on this journey together. I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed this story, and especially **TheAfterShock, emowriter,** and **PenguinLoverGurl. **You **_all_** have touched my heart, and I hope you like this.

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to SG. I am not Michael Buckley. I don't get any money from writing this.

* * *

I let myself in the door with my giant, Granny-like ring of keys.

This morning has been long and I'm exhausted, both physically and emotionally. I don't think I can take any more right now.

It took me a couple hours, but I eventually got Emmy to open up. What little I heard... it breaks my heart. How her boyfriend abused her- she still loves him. How her father... hurt her mother in front of her- she thinks it's her fault. How the pain and the blood is the only way to push the feelings inside down. I understand her. She can't say any of it. I read between her fragmented lines. She gives me the facts, but I can see her emotions behind her brittle exterior.

Emmy's story- her pain makes me want to stop listening-trying to help her, but I know I can't. Even though her anguish has begun to stir up my memories and the darkness that had settled at the edges of my happiness, Emmy needs me.

I wander into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of eggnog from the fridge. This is one of my favorite parts of the holidays- just the peaceful waiting.

My mind drifts. Maybe it's time to see how Daph and her new hubby are doing. Maybe we should get together for New Year's Eve. She'd like that, I think. Mom and Dad might like to join us, and I bet Daph could get Basil to come with her puppy dog eyes.

Shrieks of joyful laughter carry through the thin glass of my window, and I'm jolted out of my plans. I pull back the curtain, and watch as my five-year-old daughter and her daddy chase the dog around our backyard. Bono doesn't like baths. I can't hold back a smile when I see Bono free himself from Puck's grasp and try to bolt, making Puck fall backwards, into the forming mud puddle. The dog's escape results in an undefinable chaos of flying dirt, running feet, and sporadically spraying water.

I see my husband pluck Allison from the danger of our charging, and rather angrily wet, aussie. Puck lifts her into the air and twirls her around. She loves flying her her daddy's arms, strawberry blond curls flying, arms flung wide, and cheeks rosy. She is so happy, innocent, beautiful, young.

_You don't deserve her_

That ever lurking darkness- the whispering - it becomes restless, creeping closer toward me. It never really leaves.

_You don't deserve him._

I know I don't. He's kept with me the entire time. I'm still not sure why- or even how. He stayed with me even after-

_You aren't good enough for any of this. That's why you lost the-_

no

For a moment I am shattered- broken. The pain overwhelms me. My hands become numb. I hear a crash... and something else, too.

* * *

**Flashback- about twenty years earlier**

The first noise I hear is a symphony of beeping and the whirring of machines. My wrists feel like they're burning. I try to open my eyes, but as hard as I try, I can't find the energy. I am exhausted, and I waver in and out of periods of silence. Sometimes I hear the voices of my family. Other times I hear strangers. It's only ever bits and pieces.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Grimm, I don't know...

"We gave her an emergency transfusion... we had to stitch up the cuts but... says there were some complications with the...

"We're trying out best..."

I hear sobbing.

Thankfully, the nothingness claims me again.

I think it's years later when I hear again.

"You will NOT put those, things," My dad spits the word out like a rotten bite of fruit, "on my daughter!"

Even though I don't really know what's going on, I understand that my dad has protected me. He has stood up between me and some monster, and thrown a challenge before them. That monster can't get any closer, and I am safe.

"...Henry, they just want to make sure Sabrina doesn't... that she won't be hurt again."

But he stands his ground.

I try to speak, but something is in my mouth.

I feel gentle hands running through my hair. Mom murmurs unintelligible comforts to me. "Oh, my baby girl, it's going to be OK."

Blessed silence again.

I come back through the darkness a few more times to this hectic, confusing world.

At last, when I can open my eyes, I find a quiet room.

The thing isn't in my mouth anymore, but I look down to see needles an tubes connected to my arms. My wrists are bandaged tightly, but I can feel the venomous pain writhing beneath the white cloth.

My little blond boy. In a chair beside the bed, Puck sleeps, curled up with worry lines etched into his face. He shouldn't look worried.

By the not-so-gentle snores echoing through the room, I find Daphne sleeping sleeping on a short little couch beneath a window.

I hear voices. A blue curtain blocks my line of sight, but I can hear my parents speak in hushed tones outside the door.

"...My Baby, Henry, my baby girl was in so much pain, she decided she needed to hurt herself. Everything is _not_ going to be OK!"

"I know. You don't think I get it? You don't think the fact my daughter was... you don't think I'm hurt too? Of course I am. We just have to-"

"Henry, we should have known. She's my daughter. I should have been able to see what was going on with her. You know about- I should have known."

"There's nothing we could have done, really. It's not like she was telling anyone. She's a Grimm, and we have a tendency to suffer in silence..."

"But she was so..."

"Nickie, everybody changed after the war. No one can blame us for not seeing it. We've all gone through some of this and-"

"But she hurt herself! It was so bad that she wanted to die."

"I know."

Mom's wrenching sobs become muffled, and I think Dad must be comforting her.

_Look what you've done to them. See how you hurt them._

I shut my eyes tightly and hope that maybe the blackness will overtake me again. It doesn't. I can feel the tears. The tears that I hate.

Maybe if I had been stronger during the war...

They spill over, and I try to stifle to convulsive sound of the moan rising in my throat.

"You're awake."

I open my eyes and roughly wipe away the tears before I turn to Puck.

He doesn't look too good. His clothes are rumpled, although I guess that's not too different from the usual. Dark circles hang beneath his brilliant eyes. I see the beginning of wrinkles on his forehead.

"Yeah, I am."

"How're you doing, Sabrina?"

I frown, "How are _you _doing? You don't call me Sabrina."

"We're all supposed to be nice to you... Stinkpot."

"Wow, I love you too Puck." I keep my voice dry.

"Look, I get that you're in pain, and you hurt, and you feel guilty, but never do that to me again." His voice is dead serious.

I do feel guilty. It can't be easy for anyone to find their- well, friend, I guess- lying in a pool of blood on a bathroom floor.

"Why do you care so much?"

"Because... because I can't..." he mumbles the last part, and I can't understand him.

"What was that?"

He huffs, "Because I can't loose you again. OK? I. Can't. Lose. You. " He draws out every word, "You're too important. So don't just assume that you can take your own life, because you have people here that need you and love you. Don't be selfish."

"Oh."

"Is that all you can say, 'oh'? I just tell you I love you, and you just pass it off as a daily occurrence?"

"Wait, you love me?"

"That's what I just said."

It doesn't make sense to me. Nothing does. "Why? Why do you love me? I've killed people, and I'm bossy, and I make horrible choices, and I put you through all of this."

He stares at me, dumbstruck for a moment, "Why? Because, that's why. Sometimes things just happen and no one can control them. You are you: beautiful, strong, kick-ass. Why would I keep coming back to you, all these years, if I didn't love you?"

After that, we just let it be. He loves me, and I don't know why. It takes me a long time to really see it.

* * *

**Present**

"Mommy! Guess what? Daddy and me washed Bono, and we got all wet, and Daddy fell in the mud, and got all dirty, and then we-" Alison runs into the room, excited, and stops short once she sees me. She falls silent.

I'm sitting on the ground, surrounded by broken glass and the remnants of my eggnog. I look down and am surprised to see the scarlet leaking out my hands.

I can't move, no matter how hard I try. I want to get up and comfort my daughter, but something keeps me where I kneel.

"Sabrina!" Pucks voice is worried, calling out from the hallway. He enters, and I can tell he immediately understands.

"Aly, honey, you're going to spend the night at your Auntie Daphy's, OK? But right now, I want you to go up to your room and get your Pjs and toothbrush."

He takes her hand and guides her up the stairs.

"But, Daddy, what happened to Mommy?

"Mommy is going to be all right- she just had a little accident."

"An accidnt? Like when I spill my milk?"

"Yeah, a little like that, Al, but it's going to take a while to clean up, so you get to go to your Auntie's house."

He comes back in, after I don't know how long. I'm still frozen in place.

He speaks steadily, "Brea, you're going to be fine. All right?"

"Is Aly fine?"

"Yes. She's in her room. I called Daphne to come get her. But right now I need you to come with me. We're going to get you up to bed, 'kay?"

I nod.

"Can you stand?"

I try. "No."

He gently comes forward and pulls me into his arms. He carries me into our room and lays me on the bed. When he comes back from the bathroom, Puck inspects my hands and begins to wrap them in bandages.

"I didn't mean to do it... I just- I dropped the cup and I wasn't thinking. I just wanted to clean it up. I guess the glass... it- didn't realize until she came in... I'm so sorry, I'm so so so sorry I..." I can't really talk. It all just tries to come out at once.

He quiets me with a kiss. It's just a kiss, but I breaks me down from my frantic mood, and I try to breathe. He sees the pain of everything struggle within me. I spend the night wrapped in his arms, and the monsters can't touch me.

* * *

**OK. What do you all think about this continuation? Is it better or worse? Should I just give up altogether? If anyone has any new ideas for me, please tell me.**


	4. Awakening

Hello again to my wonderful readers. As you can probably tell, I'm back. A few of you were confused about what was happening in the last chapter. If you ever have any questions, please ask. It's helpful to have feedback, so I can do better.

Disclaimer: I still don't own the Sisters Grimm series, and I don't get any monies by writing this.

* * *

**Chapter 3: Awakening**

**Present**

When I wake up in the morning I feel a strange and unusual sadness. I don't understand why, or even exactly what the feeling is at first.

I take stock.

I can feel all of my limbs, fingers, and toes. I think I'm fine, if a little sore. The light seeping in between the slats of my window blinds is just bright enough to be a late Saturday morning. I haven't overslept. Puck's arm is draped over my waist.

Puck can tell I'm awake. I haven't moved or said anything, but sometime over the years we developed the ability to detect each other's moods and consciousness.

"Hon?"

"I'm here," I assure him.

"Do you remember what happened last night?"

I scrunch my eyes, trying to gather the scraps of memories. I do.

"Oh."

Puck sits up and leans over to see my face.

"Was it bad? I- I mean… how is Aly?"

"She's all right. Marshmallow texted about an hour or so ago. You should probably call soon. She's worried."

"OK."

He gently turns me over and brushes his lips against mine. When I don't respond- can't respond- he falls back beside me and sighs.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Before- when I was twelve- I couldn't have imagined Puck trying to talk about his feelings, or even having the patience to listen to me talk about mine. He's grown up so much since the war.

At first he was quiet, as if the war had ripped away his voice. He started talking after the incident. He tried to make me happy and laugh. Once he told me, in a rare moment of complete and sober honesty, that saving me saved him. I think that trying to deal with me and my problems made him mature a bit. Sometimes that makes me guilty; I wish he could just be the carefree prankster he was for four thousand years.

"I was watching you and Aly play, and I was really happy. But then I guess life isn't good with me ever being happy, so then I wasn't happy."

"Sabrina..."

I can hear the warning and disappointment in his voice. He knows there's more; there always is. I have a habit of downplaying my feelings.

"Look, I'd just had a long hard day. I got a new patient, Emmy, and she… well, she has problems that just make me remember. And after a day of everything, my moment of happiness led to a completely opposite...sadness."

His raised eyebrow is a question.

"I was guilty for being happy… and then about Jacob. I don't really even know why. It's just- I couldn't…"

I'm babbling, but I see he knows; he understands. Jacob's death… well, it hit everyone pretty hard. There's a residual suffering that stays with all of us.

I can see something move in his eyes like a protective wall, trying to keep the pain out. Or maybe in, I can't really tell.

"I'm sorry."

For moment, his face crinkles in confusion, then smooths in understanding.

"Sabrina, it wasn't your fault."

I pull further away from him, flinging my feet from beneath the covers and sitting at the edge of the bed. I hold back a convulsion from the morning cold.

"Sabrina."

I can feel him behind me, arms reaching around my waist, hot breath mixing in with my sleep-soaked hair.

"It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anybody's fault." His voice is gentle, guiding me from the precipice of my emotions.

I push up from the enveloping bed, opening my dresser in search of an outfit for the day.

"I should call Daph and see how Aly's doing. I hope she can take care of Aly till I'm done at the office today. Emmy and I have a lot of ground to cover."

"Sabrina, nobody was hurt this time, but..."

"'But' what? I'm_ never_ going to hurt my baby."

"I know, Sabrina- not on purpose, but things happen. And I don't just mean Aly. I can't lose you. Not again. I can't let you go so deep in."

"Puck, I can't give up on Emmy; she needs me."

"She can have somebody else, but not my wife- not my daughter's mother."

He's out of the bed too now, irate.

"I'm not giving up on her. Not now. If I get worse, I promise I'll step away, but she needs me right now and..."

_...and I need her_. The words hang in the air between us, never actualized but fully realized.

"I guess that's the best I'll get."

He hasn't really given up though- not really.

"I love you, you know."

"I know...and I love you too."

He has glided close to me, his mouth dropping an inch from mine, his hands sliding beneath the hem of my pajama top.

* * *

**Past**

I sit in the lone chair of my bedroom, facing sun setting through the chilly window.

Mom has wrapped me in the ratty green blanket that has lain at the foot of her bed since the house was built. I don't know where she got it; I think she had it back in New York City. It smells like her. It itches.

I've been banished to the far corner of this house, hidden in the dark corner for committing the terrible crime.

They say I just need some peace and quite so I can rest. I slept long enough at that damn hospital though.

I could tell from the moment I entered that they'd gone through my stuff. I'm pretty sure they took anything sharp or potentially dangerous.

They all avoid this room. I can hear them tip-toe past, trying to ignore the unhappiness connected with here.

"Dinner's ready!" It's Daphne. She pounds on the door angrily.

I'm silent. I don't want to go to dinner where everybody will be awkwardly silent, unwilling to talk, in case they do something to make me emotionally break. I hate it. I'm not some fragile egg they need to play hot-potato with.

"Sabrina!"

I can hear the worry behind her annoyance.

"Sabrina?"

Her voice raises in a high pitch, like a broken violin.

I sigh, and stalk to the door, opening the thick barrier just an inch. "What?"

"Sabrina," the relief on her face was visible, "I thought..."

"What? What did you think? That I'd torn apart my mattress in search for something sharp so I could just end life here and now? Or maybe I've hidden away some drugs in my tube of toothpaste so I can OD?" Now I am the angry one.

Her face drains of blood, and her voice is broken. " Sabrina..."

"Just go away."

"No"

I turn back.

"No! You act like you're the one here that's the victim. But you know what? You're wrong!"

She's follows me into the room, pushing me back with her fury.

I scoff, "Yeah right, Daph."

"Yeah, I _am _right. Do you know how hard this is for Mom? She doesn't know why her 'baby girl' is in so much pain. Dad feels guilty for not protecting you. Basil is confused- he doesn't understand anything except that his big sister almost died, again. Granny just wants to make everything better, but she can't. Puck is heartbroken.

She glares up at me, accusingly. "You need to just stop thinking of just yourself!"

"That's exactly what I am doing. You'd all be much better in the long run if I just didn't exist, and this is the best I can do."

"How dare you say that! You are my sister. No one is allowed to take my sister away... not even you." By the end of the speech, tears or leaking out of her eyes, and she's sagged to the floor.

I try to calm her down, brushing my fingers through her tangled brown hair. I hold her in my arms, grateful, in a way, that someone needs me.

She tries to speak between gasps and sobs, "You aren't allowed to leave again. I can't be alone."

I nod. "O.K."

I don't know if I mean it, but in this moment I'm a big sister protecting her little sister from the world, and I'll do anything to make her all right.

* * *

**Present**

"Emmy, I need you to close your eyes and relax, OK? I know this is going to be difficult- and painful- for you, but I want you to think back to last night and what happened with your mom and dad."

Emmy has cleaned up since yesterday. She's wearing an old sweater, moth-eaten at the elbows, and a pair of supermarket pants. Child Services must have been low on emergency foster families- they've placed her with an older couple, not used to clothing children.

Her wild hair is framed by the late morning sunlight wandering through the curtains. The face, yesterday stained with running makeup and the pain and shock of her situation, is now cleared and summed up with a blank withdraw.

"Dr. Fellows, I don't think I can."

"Yes you can. I know you can, because you are strong."

She is silent for what seems a lifetime. When she speaks, her voice is small and broken like a child.

"I was getting home, I'd been with Danny and he'd just... and I was cold. The house was freezing cold- that's what they were fighting about- mom and dad- he was mad that she hadn't been home and dinner wasn't ready. Mom had gone to the school earlier to talk to them about me about- I don't know... stuff, and she didn't get home in time.

"They were yelling. She's tried to explain but he... he knocked her to the ground.

"I wanted to stop him, but I couldn't. Like every time before, I just stood there like an idiot- watching.

"It was bad. It was so so so bad. There was so much blood, all red and everywhere."

Her eyes are wide, and I feel the dam about to crack behind the weight of her sadness. She has made herself small, like a frightened kitten, cowering in the corner of her chair.

"Emmy, what where they fighting about?"

"The heating, and the dinner, and... me."

"No, Emmy, I want you to think, what were they really fighting about? What was your dad so angry about that he had to hit your mother?"

"I... I don't..."

"Could you or your mom have really changed any of what happened- any of what set him off?"

She thinks; she shakes her head no.

"Emmy, this is very important; I need you to know that his anger- what he did to your mom- was not your fault. It was never your fault, and there was nothing you could do. He was going to be angry and find something to get worked up about no matter what."

The look in her eyes is hope: the idea of relief for a weary and love-starved soul.

"It still hurts. I still feel like I need..."

I know.

"Emmy, when you feel like that I need you to do something. I need you to try and relax and think about your happiest memory ever, OK?"

"Kay?"

"Would it help for you to tell me about it?"

She looks frightened and a little uncomfortable.

"Just close your eyes and relax, OK?"

The silence beats like a living heart.

"When I was really little, maybe seven, I got sick. I was kinda happy, 'cause it was on dodgeball day at school. Momma picked me up from school and took me home. We spent the whole day in the guest bedroom- the one she gives- gave to Gran when she visited.

"She got out tubs of ice cream and frozen leftover birthday cake from my party a few weeks ago. It was snowy outside, but we kept the heat up high all day. We watched princess movies and read books together.

"I think... my dad was visiting a friend from across the country, because he didn't come back home for a long time after that."

She's so small- so kitten-like- I want to hold her and protect her from all of the frightening monsters that haunt her memories.

I'm startled when I hear a soft knock on the door to my office.

"Mommy!"

* * *

OK. That sounds like a good place to stop. I'm so sorry I haven't updated in so long. I hope you all liked this.

Please review and tell me what you think. Oh! And answer the QOTD in your review.

**Question of the day: What is the craziest dream you've ever had? (most interesting/crazy gets a shout-out in the next chapter.)**


	5. Admissions

Yeah, I know. I'm a horrible rotten author. Bad me!

Anyways, congrats to** Alexandra Jackson rocks Hades** for one of the strangest and creepiest dreams that I've heard.

Oh, and honorable mention to **SweetShireen** because one, she was the only other person who responded to the question, and two, I really enjoyed The Image of you trying to head off Voldemort and then the whole Edward and his sparklyness is what finally kills the world thing is hilarious.

Warnings: Implied sex, trigger warning, slight swearing, general darker motifs that you may not like.

Oh, P.S., I hope Daphne and Sabrina's dialogue isn't too confusing, but I had to write it like they were sisters.

**New QOTD: What's your best or craziest late-night/early morning story? As in, crazy things you've done in the wee hours of darkness.**

* * *

Chapter 5: Admissions 

**Present Day**

The morning sun has spread a contented warmth through the room that contrasts yesterday's freezing temperatures.

The rays are caught in a glass prism window hanging- my first mother's day gift, send from Granny. Its rainbow of colors prance between Emmy and Aly's faces. With the lift of light, Emmy's elfin lips are graced with a smile. It's the first I've seen on her.

There was a tense moment after Aly burst into the room to give me a running hug. She calmed down immediately after seeing we weren't alone in the room, and momentarily hid behind my legs.

I sent her off to the reading corner, and apologized to Emmy for the interruption.

When Daphne followed Aly in a few minutes later, she drew me to the back of the room for a "serious discussion".

As my sister talked at me about "responsibilities" and "dangerous triggers," I watched my little girl, who'd been curled up in the kid's area, slowly rise and carry a stack of her favorite books to Emmy's chair. She climbed up gently, and held up the first of the books for the fiery-haired girl to read.

For a moment my heart had jumped its way into my throat, as I held my breath in anticipation at how Emmy would react.

Emmy was fine.

I watch them both now, Aly in a happy coma from the attention, and Emmy reading out the voices of all the monsters and laughing aloud with my daughter when the characters make funny mistakes.

I want to cry.

"Sabrina!"

I turn my head sharply.

"Sabrina, have you been listening to a word I've said?" Daphne is frustrated, and earnestly trying to convey her concern for me. "Sabrina, I love you, but you can't continue like this. You aren't able to pay attention, you're spending all your time here, and yesterday-" She breaks off, frightened and remembering, "Sabrina, I just don't want you to get hurt, or Alison either.

I wonder when our roles switched. I used to be the careful one, who would always blame people or withdraw from the suspicious talking animals.

"Daph, I'm fine. I promise you."

"No you're not. You need to stop."

"I am not going to give up on her!" I hiss through clenched teeth.

She groans, running a slim hand through her mocha-colored hair. "I'm not asking you to give up on her, just... just let someone else take her."

I count my tens, trying to hold back the anger. "No."

"It's not as if nobody else can help her. There are other people in the world who can understand depression."

"I need her."

She looks at me, searching for an answer- an answer to me.

She breaths out, "Sabrina."

"Yeah."

"Was it... were they back before she came?"

I'm terrified to admit it, but I nod.

"Last time..."

"I know"

"you lost-"

"I know."

I slide down the wall, gazing at my beautiful daughter, the sun creating a halo glow in the frizz of her escaped hairs.

Daphne sits beside me, leaning her head on my shoulder.

"I can't do this alone again."

"I know."

* * *

Flashback: about nineteen or eighteen years earlier...

_To my dear descendant who might be forced to read this damn journal one day,_

_Props to you for sticking though all of this so far- all this family and danger stuff. Because, to tell you the truth, I don't think I can. The thing that bugs me most is that nobody ever tells me anything. Granny won't trust us. Uncle Jake just- well__,__ I don't know about him. __ Mr.__ Canis keeps us cooped up in here- gees__,__ he's worse than those protective dads you see in TV teen dramas. The thing is- I can kinda understand why he's so protective. There's __an__ actual war out there. _

_You know what... I just want my normal life back, but I don't think that's ever gonna happen. Daphne's in second heaven, helping Granny solve her mysteries. I don't get the point. We've done our duty to this town through __s__o many centuries__,__ so why all this? _

_Anyways, hang in there... or don't._

_-Sabrina Grimm_

I slump back on my bed. I can't concentrate on the required daily journaling with Mom and Dad squabbling downstairs.

I check the time on my nightstand clock. 9:45 P.M.

I lie down, listening to the house, fidgeting with the silver bracelet Puck gave me six months ago- before he admitted to me he was going to leave with Uncle Jake.

Mom and Dad have finished their argument with his shouting and slamming the front door and her stomping upstairs to wash up. Granny has long since slipped into sleep, and is snoring the night away. I know Daph likes to fall asleep with her iPod full blast, so she's probably dead to the world by now. Basil's bed time was nearly two hours ago, so I'm not surprised if he passed out a while ago.

I wait, making sure the house is still, before I crawl to my window and painfully, slowly, push it open.

I sit on the the high peak of the house.

The night air is perfect, a comfortable warm with gentle breezes brushing through my hair. The stars are twinkling like a fairytale, and I let out a soft laugh. This perverse world has pushed me into a fairytale I detest, and I'm faced with the ever distant dream of freedom.

"Expecting someone, Grimm?" A too-familiar voice calls out behind me, and I jump.

"Shiza!"

"Wow, and I thought you'd be happy to see me."

I turn to him. "What do you want, Puck?"

"If I said 'you' would you get down from there?" he asks, moving to grab my wrists.

"No." I hold my arms closer to my chest, as if trying to keep warm in the night.

"Sabrina..." His face is different now- older.

"Puck, just let me go. I want to go."

"When are you ever going to change?" He is angry now, " When are you are going to figure out that your family loves you and just wants to keep you safe? You can't just abandon ship every time things don't go your way!"

I glare up at him, "Yeah, like you did?"

How can he stand there and talk to me about abandoning people, when he left me last year?

He staggers back.

"No! I thought you were fine. I thought you didn't need me anymore."

"I didn't need you! I wanted you," I scream at him. "I loved you, and you left me."

"What?"

Shocked, he trips further, reaching his hands out for a grip, only managing to dislodge me from my perch on the roof.

As I tumble backwards, I'm facing death again, once an old friend, now a lurking houseguest who's overstayed his welcome. I don't want to die.

Puck has a stricken look across his face when he finally thinks to catch me.

"I..."

I'm clinging to him.

"Was that all... is all that true? Do you love me too?"

I struggle to my feet again.

"Yes, of course it is...or was until-idiot, you had to go and nearly KILL me!"

**Present Time: Eighteen to Nineteen years after the flashback**

I smile, watching my husband signing release forms for his patient, and saying goodbye. He makes a nickel disappear behind the little girl's ear, and pulls forth a bright flower. The child and her mother are laughing as she pushes her daughter towards the elevator.

When he turns back to his file of paperwork, I tiptoe closer, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

"Hey there..."

He's startled for a moment, but turn in my arms and bends to plant a kiss on my lips.

"Hey. Whatcha doing here? I'm not off for another couple hours."

"I wanted to check in with you before going home."

We walk to an on-call room for privacy.

"Did Marshmallow drop Aly off at your work today?

"Yep, and she decided she had a lot to say."

"Oh." I know he knows by the look on my face what Daph wanted, and he remembers how I react to other people trying to control my life.

"Yeah, I know."

"You know she means well, right?"

"She had some good things to say, it just bugs the shit out of me."

He smirks.

"What?"

"Oh, just remembering the last time you were this pissed off."

Well, fair enough.

"I wasn't really that angry while she was there, but after she left I just..." Searching for the words to express my emotions, I growl, "I just wish she would keep her nose out of my business."

"Yeah," He's just placating me now and I can tell, but I choose to ignore his tone.

"This is my family, not her's," I pound my fist against his chest to drive my point home.

Puck reaches to brace my arms, "I know. And we agreed, as long as we keep tabs on you, it'll be good for you to continue with Emmy, but Hon, as much as I understand, it's best if we don't dwell on the anger for now, if last time is anything to learn from."

He's right. Last time did get a little... passionate. Which was embarrassing for whatever resident that had come to collect my husband last time I'd needed to see him at work and we'd gone a little too far. It's not like we do this all the time, barely ever, but I need to reassure myself that I can handle the anger and not explode.

I grin, standing on the balls of my feet, and pulling him closer for a kiss to release my tension. It doesn't quite work.

"Where did you say Aly is, anyways?" He asks, fiddling with a loose tendril of my hair.

"She's playing with Ziggy in the waiting room."

Ziggy, the pediatric receptionist, likes kids, especially Aly, who can play with him for hours on end.

"Then I think I have just enough time before my next patient for us to work this out."

He lifts me up, and presses my back into the door, as he checks that the lock is secure.

* * *

I hope that last part isn't too out of place, but I like it so I'm keeping it. Please review and tell me what you think about the story so far.

**QOTD: What's your best or craziest late-night/early morning story? As in, crazy things you've done in the wee hours of darkness.**


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